


At the Centre of a Universe

by josafiend



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Control, Flirting, Intervention, Loss of Control, M/M, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josafiend/pseuds/josafiend
Summary: It's all fun for Lando Norris, picking off boys left and right, but it doesn't sit right with his teammate, Carlos Sainz Jr.
Relationships: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Lando Norris
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	At the Centre of a Universe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back into writing with a whole new pairing, after 4 years away... let's see how this goes :)
> 
> I'd also like to thank @kakkakerssi for writing an inspirational three parter that kicked off this spontaneous one shot!

Carlos Sainz Jr loitered, restlessly, in the foyer of the Sakhir, Grand Plaza, alternating between looking at his watch and the revolving door a few yards away. It was the first race of the 2020 season and it seemed like the whole world’s press wanted a piece of him, or more accurately them, but Lando Norris, his team-mate for another season at McLaren, was conspicuously absent.

A nearby door cracked open and Rupert, his physio, slipped through. ‘Still not here yet?’ he asked, peering round.

‘I messaged him, but it’s not been read,’ Carlos replied.

‘His phone’s always on silent. I’ll see if Jon’s heard anything,’ Rupert suggested, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling through his contacts till he found his colleague.. ‘Jon? Hey, mate… is everything okay? It’s just the thing is starting in a minute… Oh, okay. We’ll head in and keep them talking for a bit. See you.’

Carlos looked at Rupert questioningly, ‘Well?’

‘On their way, there was an unexpected hold up. We’ll warm them up, then Lando can join the party.’

Carlos’s face folded into a frown, ‘What hold up?’

Rupert pulled on the conference room door, guiding the Spaniard in, ‘I don’t know, it could be anything! Let’s go.’

Fifteen minutes later Lando appeared at Carlos’s shoulder, looking a bit like he’d been found in a hedge.

‘Hey Carlos!’

“Where have you been?” Carlos hissed, trying to tidy his teammate’s hair and straighten his shirt collar.

Lando giggled.

Carlos rolled his eyes, “Oy, Lando. _Mate_!” he chastised.

“What?!” Lando grinned, “I’m not late. I’m multi-tasking.”

Carlos shook his head, ‘You smell like cupboard sex.’

Lando grinned.

Two days later Carlos was sitting in the sunshine outside McLaren hospitality when he spotted his teammate strolling down the paddock in his direction. As it was warm Lando had peeled down the top of his race suit, its arms trailing behind him, and he was clearly loving the attention, as Carlos could see him stretching to show off in the tight nomex underwear. He paused along his journey for a couple of selfies with fans, finally dropping into the seat opposite.

‘Ugh!” he groaned, pushing off his cap and running his hands through his hair.

Carlos sipped slowly on his drink, while Lando leaned back on the back legs of his chair, reaching over his head in yet another unnecessary stretch. The nomex untucked itself and rode up, revealing tan flesh just above his groin.

‘Stop it!’ Carlos hissed.

Lando smirked, ‘I’m okay with you checking me out, Carlos.’

Carlos kicked the chair and Lando almost tipped over, he shrieked and grabbed at the table.

‘Dick!’ Lando snapped, looking petulant.

‘My bad,’ Carlos replied.

Carlos wandered through the engineering department, heading for Sunday morning briefing, lolling along to the sound of the music in his headphones and scrolling through notifications on his phone at the same time. If he’d been paying attention he would have realised he was opening the door to an empty office and wouldn’t have tripped over Pierre Gasly’s ankles.

‘What the…!’

‘Hey Carlos.’

The smirk was back as Lando hastily tucked himself back into his boxers, but at least Pierre had the decency to look uncomfortable. ‘I should…’ the Frenchman mumbled, gesturing at the door as he got to his feet and swerving past Carlos as he made a hasty exit.

‘This is not good, Lando.’

Lando pointed at the open door, ‘I’d swiped the occupied sign over, it’s not my fault you can’t read. I’ve got to take this to driver briefing now.’ Lando jabbed his index finger at the hard peak in his jeans. ‘You can finish me off, if you’re quick.’

‘Oy, oy…’ came Carlos’s reply. He turned on his heel and headed for his intended destination, followed by a sniggering Lando.

It was Sunday night. The majority of the crew had left the hotel, heading to China for the following weekend’s race. Carlos had hung back for one night, to have dinner with his friend and mentor, Fernando Alonso. He was sipping a beer while he waited at the bar when he heard a familiar voice as the lift doors opened.

‘Hey Carlos!’

The Spaniard raised his glass in greeting, ‘Lando... and Max,’ he added, lifting the glass again to his teammate’s companion. ‘I didn’t realise you were staying over too.’

Lando shrugged, ‘I couldn’t be bothered to pack and the shots are cheaper here.’

‘Shots we’re not drinking,’ Max warned, taking Lando by the elbow and steering him toward the door. ‘Have a good night, Carlos.’

‘You too,’ Carlos replied.

He watched the pair as they trotted across reception. Lando snuck in front of Max at the exit and the Dutchman slapped him on the backslide. Lando giggled.

‘My friend!’

Carlos got off his stool and greeted Fernando with a bear hug.

‘You’ve been in the gym again, Carlos, you feel solid under there!’ Fernando cried, grasping one of the other man’s biceps and giving it a squeeze. ‘Dios mío!’

Carlos laughed, draining his beer and gesturing to the door. ‘Let’s get dinner, I’m starving.’

‘There’s something on your mind,’ Fernando said, leaning back as their empty plates were cleared. ‘I can see it, you’re distracted.’

Carlos sighed.

‘Out with it,’ Fernando smiled. ‘Girl trouble?’

The younger man pulled a face, ‘Even my dad knows I’m gay, Nando, and I didn’t even have to tell him.’

‘Okay, you’ve got me. Who is he then?’

‘It’s less boy trouble, more teammate trouble.’

Fernando leaned back in his seat and blew out his cheeks. ‘Be careful there my friend, you know they say you shouldn’t dirty your own door.’

Carlos waved his hands. ‘No, no… not like that. I’m worried about him. He’s the one dirtying doors.’

‘Lando?’

Carlos nodded. ‘He’s… he’s a… a whore,’ he finished weakly.

Fernando considered this. ‘If you say you’re not interested, why does this bother you?’

‘Because I want him to respect himself and do better, he must have been with half the paddock!’

‘Seems like a shame I took that sabbatical if the twunk buffet was giving out freebies,’ Fernando mused.

Carlos threw his napkin at him. ‘Nando! Be serious.’

Fernando laughed, ‘I’m sorry, that was unfair. Have you spoken to him about it?’

‘Honestly, it’s difficult to find a time when he’s not… otherwise engaged,’ Carlos sighed, sadly.

‘You’ll just have to try and corner him.’

‘He’d probably like that.’

Fernando reached forwards and patted Carlos on the forearm, ‘You’ll figure it out. Let’s get more drinks!’

Carlos and Fernando headed to a couple of bars, nothing too rowdy, just some more beer, then some whiskeys. They walked down the main street, back to Carlos’s hotel, taking in the lights and revelry around them.

‘Will you be in China?’ Carlos asked.

‘I will try, there’s some Indy things I need to do. If I can squeeze a trip to the East in, I will.’

Fernando opened up his arms and Carlos gave him a tight hug goodbye. ‘Thank you for dinner, it’s always good to see you.’

‘And you, Carlos. Keep me posted on that teammate issue, if I can help at all.’

‘I will. Safe flight.’

Carlos walked through the hotel, jumping in the lift to the twelfth floor and sliding his keycard from his back pocket. Once in his room, he kicked off his shoes, pulled a nightcap beer from the mini-fridge, and turned the tv to a sports news channel.

Outside, in the corridor, he heard voices speaking in forced whispers, stifled laughter and the unmistakable sound of someone falling into their own room door. The door slammed and the sounds of movement began to emanate through the wall. More laughing and more thuds, which Carlos could have quite happily coped with, but the laughing subsided after a few moments, replaced by occasional moans and the sound of a cheaply manufactured hotel headboard rhythmically thudding against the wall between them.

Carlos was about to bang his fist on the wall to remind his neighbours to keep it down, when he remembered who’d been booked into that room for the entire weekend.

And who hadn’t caught a flight to China yet.

‘Oh, Lando,’ he sighed, looking at the ceiling as the thuds got faster and louder. He pulled a cushion from the bed and wrapped it around his ears until it was quiet again. Another, later slam of the door telling him that Max, if it was Max, wasn’t sticking around for the cuddling.

Carlos arrived at the airport earlier than necessary and spent time wandering round the duty free, in search of a new cologne and a couple of magazines to read on the flight.

‘Hey Carlos!’

Carlos looked up, straight into the beaming smile of Lando.

‘We’re booked onto the same flight, lucky you!’

‘Hello, my friend,’ he said, moving along the rack and picking up a copy of World Soccer. ‘How are we this morning? Tired? Sore?’

Lando eyed him quizzically, his eyebrows lifting as his brain realised what his teammate was referring to.

‘You heard that?’ he winced.

Carlos chuckled, ‘The whole hotel probably heard it.’

Lando rounded the aisle, dropping his backpack on the floor. ‘It was just a bit of fun, Carlos.’

‘Mmmm hmmm.’

‘Carlos!’ Lando whined, hooking the magazine down so Carlos had to look at him. ‘Don’t be like this.’

‘I’m not _like_ anything,’ he replied and strode off to pay for his purchases.

‘The thing that gets me…’

The plane had been in the air for about fifteen minutes when Carlos decided to attempt his intervention.

‘Hold on, hold on,’ Lando said, turning off his music to give Carlos his attention. ‘Okay, continue.’

Carlos glared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath.

‘The thing that gets me is that you’re disrespecting yourself with how you act.’

Lando rolled his eyes, ‘Oh, here we go.’

‘I get it. You’re a handsome guy and there’s no shortage of offers, but you don’t have to take them all. What must people think when you’re leaving toilet cubicles with other drivers, or mechanics, or hospitality waiters?’

‘Maybe I don’t care what people think?’ Lando snapped.

Carlos chuckled, ‘But I think that you do, which is why I don’t understand it. I think you want people to think you’re in control and this is how you show that.’

‘I am in control.’

‘Are you?’ Carlos asked.

Lando opened his mouth to answer and then shut it again.

‘I didn’t think so,’ Carlos said sadly.

Lando shook his head, retrieving the air pods. ‘This is bullshit, Carlos. You’re clearly just jealous.’

‘Oy, oy..’

‘If you’re that frustrated, we can always work that out in the bathroom?’

‘Lando, it’s not like that. Why can’t you see?’

Lando snorted, stuffing the earphones into his ears. ‘I could have you any time I wanted,’ he muttered. ‘Not in control.’

Carlos watched Lando for a short time after their conversation ended, noting the tight clench of his jaw and the slight furrow in his brow. He knew he’d hit a nerve with that one. Lando never snapped at him like that.

Lando slept until their descent into Shanghai Hongqiao and stayed mostly silent as they made their way through arrivals. They shared a taxi to the hotel and Carlos continued to study his, now mute, companion.

‘Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,’ he tried, as the car pulled into the drop off bay.

Lando didn’t look at him. ‘You didn’t,’ he said, climbing out and heading inside without a backwards glance.

‘’How did it go?’

Carlos sighed, ‘Somewhere between terrible and disaster.’

‘Got defensive when you cornered him then?’ Fernando replied.

‘Yup. He thinks I’m jealous.’

‘Are you?’

Carlos thought about this question. ‘I’m not jealous of one night stands and fumbling around in a cupboard. You’ve seen him, but it’s not all about looks, you’ve got to have the right attitude too, no?’

Fernando hummed in agreement. ‘So what now?’

‘Apparently he thinks he’s in control and can have me whenever he likes.’

‘Can he?’

Carlos laughed loudly, ‘Not at all!’

Fernando chuckled along with him, ‘I suppose Lando is going to get a lesson in things not always going his way then?’

‘I suppose so,’ Carlos agreed.

‘Hey Carlos!’

Lando bounced across to where Carlos was studying some data. The Spaniard eyed his companion curiously, considering the complete change in his demeanor since the last time he’d seen him.

‘Hello Lando, you put some good times in this morning.’

Lando grinned, ‘All good if I can keep them going into quali tomorrow.’

Carlos mirrored the smile, but was vaguely aware that Lando was much more in his space than usual. He stepped back a bit. Lando pouted.

‘Stop that.’

‘No.’

‘Lando, I…’

The young brit leaned forwards, looking like he was reaching for a headset, his cheek brushing Carlos’s ear.

‘Any time, Carlos.’

Carlos pushed Lando gently back by his chest. He felt the muscles under the t-shirt flex and rolled his eyes.

‘I’ll catch you later,’ Lando said with a smirk, turning and heading for his own side of the garage.

For the next two races Carlos battled on two fronts, firstly his set up had gone to hell. The MCL35 was literally all over the place. Understeer here, too much torque there. No matter what Carlos tried with the engineers, the problems just didn’t seem to resolve.

The other issue was Lando, who had ramped up the flirting to almost unbearable levels. He could clearly see that Carlos was struggling on track and seemed to want to play on these frustrations.

_Why don’t we just go back to the hotel and you can fuck some of that tension out?_

Carlos had just growled, thrown his helmet back on and gone out for another five horrendous laps and, truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded the opportunity to level the playing field with the smug little shit. Lando’s lap times continued to be impressive, but with each rejection, Carlos could see that he was running out of ideas. Once he’d tried stretching and pouting, he’d appear out of nowhere, a tactile hand on his waist or shoulder and his breath always a bit too warm on his neck. Other times he’d brush purposefully against him, lightly grazing his crotch with an unrepentant ‘oops’ or blatantly bending over in front of him.

It wasn’t until Canada that the tables tipped. Lando had turned up at a publicity event wearing the exact outfit Carlos had complimented him for last season, with his hair less tidy and falling in his face. He kept peering up at the Spaniard from underneath it, biting his bottom lip and murmuring into his ear when nobody was looking.

_You make me hard when you look at me like that, Carlos._

‘Dame fuerza…’ Carlos hissed, finishing the sponsor commitments as fast as he could and rushing back to the hotel.

Okay, he could admit it. He did want to fuck Lando. The longer the teasing had gone on the more Carlos had taken in the curve of his back in his flameproofs, and the way his hair fell in his face so his blue eyes peered out from beneath. He liked to hear the sound of him laughing and found that he missed the times they'd had, before their argument on the plane, where they just played around. Picking on each other in a way that seemed to come so naturally for both of them. In truth, with the introduction of sex, everthing he’d loved about Lando had been ruined.

An hour later his hotel room door thudded with a pounding fist. Carlos muted the television and padded across the carpet, turning the lock but the door swung quickly as though pushed hard from the other side.

‘What the hell?!’

Lando barreled inside, looking furious.

‘Come in please, Lando,’ he said sarcastically.

‘This isn’t fair anymore, Carlos.”

Carlos cocked his head to the side, ‘What’s not fair? Not getting your own way?’

Lando’s hands clenched into fists as his side as he breathed noisily through his nose.

‘You’ve been trying to make a point, well done, you’ve made it.’

Carlos sighed, ‘You don’t get it, Lando. It’s not about making a point, it’s about me respecting myself enough to not fuck something just because it moves.’

Lando didn’t reply, he just glared, then turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

‘Carlos, it’s George.’

Carlos was slouching on his bed, listening to music before dinner, when his phone had rung.

‘George, this is unexpected. Are you okay?’

There was a pause. ‘I hope so. Have you seen Lando today?’

Carlos thought back through his movements that day. ‘Actually, no.’

Due to it being the weekend before the British Grand Prix, they were in their own houses, and tackling different sponsorship commitments that week.

‘I’ve got a dinner this evening that I can’t get out of, any chance you can just track him down and give me a message to let me know he’s alright. He doesn’t usually stay off the radar for this long.’

‘Of course,’ Carlos assured, saying goodbye to George and immediately calling Lando’s number.

The call went through to answerphone.

He sent a Whatsapp message instead.

_Everything gone okay today?_

One tick.  
Two ticks.  
Blue ticks.

Carlos frowned at the read receipt. Why hadn’t Lando accepted the call?

He rang again.

This time Lando picked up.

‘What do you want, Carlos?’

Carlos swallowed at his rudeness, but something in Lando’s voice sounded different. He sounded… weak.

‘Just checking in, my friend. I’d not heard from you all day.’

The line was quiet for a moment. Then Lando said, ‘I’m fine,’ in a way that confirmed to Carlos that he wasn't fine at all.

He hung up, then grabbed his phone, his keys and a biscuit, and headed out to the car.

It was only a ten minute drive to Lando’s house, they both lived within short distance of the MTC because neither of them liked mornings. Carlos parked alongside Lando’s car and crunched across the gravel to the front door, knocking firmly.

Nobody answered.

Carlos glanced at the car, Lando never walked anywhere, and stepped back from the porch step to look up at the house. A figure ducked out of view in the master bedroom window.

Carlos knocked again, ‘Lando, I can see you. Let me in please.’

Through the frosted glass panel he saw the light change and a figure approach the door. Lando pulled the lock enough to open the door, but Carlos had to push it to go through.

‘Que demonios?’ Carlos breathed.

Lando looked like shit and clearly felt like shit, wincing under his teammate’s gaze. He had the beginnings of a black eye and, as he headed to the kitchen, a slight limp.

‘Lando, what happened to you?’

He followed Lando in the kitchen, where he was paused against the open fridge door. Carlos rounded the breakfast bar and realised that he was crying.

‘Lando…’

Lando reached forwards and pulled out a giant bottle of milk, shuffling to where some glasses were drying on a rack and shakily pouring a glass.

‘What do you say when someone was right and you’re a complete dick?’

‘Well, I think that,’ Carlos replied softly.

Lando took a sip from the glass and looked out into the garden, then back at Carlos.

‘I don’t think I’m in control anymore.’

Carlos took him in, the bruise, a split lip he hadn’t noticed and some slight finger marks around Lando’s neck, like he’d been held down from the back.

‘Who did this to you?’ he asked, stepping closer. ‘Can I..?’ he asked, opening his arms and Lando just sort of collapsed into them.

‘It doesn’t matter, you were right. He didn’t respect me and now I don’t even respect myself.’

Carlos pulled his head back and looked at Lando’s face, thumbing a tear away as it carved a trail down his cheek. ‘I don’t care about being right. I wanted you to stop this because it would hurt you in the end. You’re a good person, a kind person, Lando. It makes me sad that you think this is all you’re worth.’

‘I…’ Lando began, then slumped against the counter top, staring at the floor..

‘You don’t have to fuck people to get them to like you,’ Carlos said softly.

Lando sighed, ‘It wasn’t just that… if I was the one they want to fuck and I could say when and where, I’d be in control. If I’m in control, I’m unbeatable. Some of my best results have come from that confidence. I needed it, Carlos.’

Carlos looked down at his teammate, his control now taken away. It broke his heart to think that anyone could use him like he meant nothing. ‘Is it more important than being loved? If you get confidence boosts from a quick fuck with a stranger, imagine what you could do if you were the centre of someone’s universe.’

Lando glanced up at Carlos and the Spaniard reached forwards, bushing stray curls out of his eyes.

‘One night wouldn’t be enough for me,’ he whispered.

Lando smiled sadly.

Carlos called Jon, who arrived soon after with a huge first aid box, and together they patched up Lando, made him hot chocolate and let him win at FIFA.

‘Hey, Carlos?’ The Spaniard was on his way out, he hadn’t fed his cat so had planned to pick her up and return to Lando’s for the rest of the evening to keep him company.

He turned. ‘Lando?’

‘What’s it like at the centre of a universe?’

Carlos smiled, catching Lando’s chin in his hands, gently raising it up and slotting their lips together. Lando’s shoulders sagged slightly and he sighed into the kiss and then started crying again.

‘No, no…’ Carlos murmured, ‘Don’t do that.’

Lando smiled, ‘It’s been ages since I kissed anyone and meant it. It’s just nice.’

Carlos tutted and planted a kiss against Lando’s forehead. ‘Muppet.’


End file.
